


The Iron in our Veins

by BlueLionWrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidentally entering the Fae Realm, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Business Trip, Caves, Fae & Fairies, Faeries Made Them Do It, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Loopholes, M/M, Magic Revealed, Near Death Experiences, Nudity, Prophecy, Screw Destiny, Shiro (Voltron) Has Issues, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro Has Long Hair, Wings, sleep-walking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 18:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLionWrites/pseuds/BlueLionWrites
Summary: As a child, Lance was enamoured with the faeries that lived in his home but on the day of his twelfth birthday, Lance lost his Sight and all memory of the fae. Fast forward thirteen years, while on a corporate retreat with his coworkers, Lance stumbles headfirst into a world living in fear of an Iron Beast and a prophecy he has been destined to fulfil.
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	The Iron in our Veins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> This is my very late piece for the Fabled Voltron Exchange for @for_flick_sake over on Twitter. 
> 
> (Shoutout to Crippling Writers Block and No Internet Connection, I couldn’t have done it without you guys!!)
> 
> Out of the prompts I was given, I chose: ‘Accidentally entering the Fae Realm’ 
> 
> I hope you like it Flick   
(ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Lance had been enamoured with the Fae ever since he was a young child. As a tot, they would play hide and seek throughout his room and would use their magic to animate his stuffed toys to make them dance through the air. 

After he had started his first year of school, Lance would spend the afternoons cooing over the baby sprites hidden in the fluff of the dandelions in his backyard and chase after the brownies that hid in the old, brick chimney in the living room. 

He would watch the dryads swing from the oaken branches above the tire swing in the corner of the backyard that his father had made for him and siblings and giggled as the little naiads played with him in the bathtub, splashing him from their seat atop the soap bubbles that would rest on the surface of the water.

Lance was only four years old the first time he tried to tell his mother of the Fair Folk that he could see but she always brushed his tales off as nothing more than the imagination of a creative child. Her nonchalant attitude towards her son's imagination changed, however, as the years drew on and Lance was still talking about the faeries. 

Mama would often catch Lance talking to himself and it grew worse after he started school and the other children persecuted him for his strange behaviours. 

A few months after his ninth birthday, mama’s uncle passed away and was set to be buried in the cemetery that flanked the very edge of their town. One moment, Lance was standing beside his mother, listening to the priest speak as the casket was lowered into the plot and the next, he was gone. Lance had disappeared into the lush forest behind the cemetery and returned hours later, clutching a huge array of flowers without so much as a speck of dirt on his suit or a single scratch anywhere on his body.

His parents had rushed towards him, dropping whatever they were holding and had grabbed him by the shoulders, demanding to know where he had gone, tears streaming down their faces. Lance told his parents that he was just picking flowers to give to the fairies at home for looking after him so well. 

Throughout the years, Lance would often wake up curled against the big oak tree the tire swing was attached to. He never knew how exactly he got there but he always awoke surrounded by a ring of white mushrooms and small blue flowers. 

Over the weeks leading up to his twelfth birthday, mama and papa worked for days; scouring over every piece of faery lore they could find and doing everything in their power to cure her son of his delusions, even if she herself didn't believe a single word of what she read.

Mama first replaced everything in the house with iron; from cast iron cooking pots and frying pans, to curtain rods, door handles and furnishings. She had even gone so far as to purchase iron supplements from the pharmacy to give to Lance each morning, claiming he was deficient and this would make him feel better, even though Lance said he felt perfectly fine. 

The garden that framed the pathway to the front door was removed next; the shrubs and lovingly-tended flower beds completely torn out and replaced them with marsh marigolds, daisies, St John’s Wort and red verbena and a layer of sugar lining the garden edge. 

And on the day of Lance's twelfth birthday, it all stopped like traffic on a freeway after a thirty car collision; he stopped talking about fairies entirely as if the memories of the fae had faded away into nothingness over the course of the day like they'd never been there to begin with. It all happened without so much as a word from Lance, as if he had no idea nor recollection that he had ever been so obsessed with the fairies in the first place. 

Lance continued on with his life as if nothing had ever changed. He stopped waking up outside, the bullying at school finally ceased and Lance began to do well academically now that most of his time was being spent in the classroom instead of the infirmary and by the time Lance had reached high-school, he was lined up for a prestigious scholarship to a college that would help him earn a degree in business like his parents wanted. 

During college, Lance was an academic student not to say he couldn’t party with the best of them but he bnebver let his grades drop and with his impressive grades and cunning wit, Lance earned himself a place at the Atlas Corporation straight out of college. Within eighteen months Lance had worked his way up the corporate ladder with astonishing speed and a charming wile that couldn't be ignored, making him the youngest COO to ever work for Atlas Corp.

However, despite his successes in the career field, Lance’s life was cripplingly dull; go to work, come home, eat alone, do paperwork, occasionally go on a date that will ultimately end in failure and repeat. 

As the years drag on and Lance's twenty fifth birthday comes and goes with little fanfare, a niggling sensation in the back of his mind begins to rear its head, as if he's forgetting something important. But he can't, for the life of him, remember what it could possibly be that he’s forgetting.

When the news of an upcoming corporate retreat for the folks on the higher rungs of the corporate ladder comes, Lance is relieved, thinking to himself that perhaps getting away from the city for a few days for some fresh air would do him some good and clear his head. 

By the time the day to leave for the retreat rolls around, Lance is practically chomping at the bit, anxious to get away from the city that is beginning to feel more and more claustrophobic and less like the place he had called home for the last seven years. 

At least, he was looking forward to the retreat… until he finds out it’s a camping trip into the middle of Krell National Forest, a place notorious for having thousands of mosquitoes and homicidal wildlife. 

“What kind of corporation thinks camping in the middle of nowhere with no coffee machine is a good idea?” Lance mutters to himself, slamming his car trunk closed and huffing as he slides into the driver’s seat. 

It’ll take hours to drive there and thus far, Lance is up before the sun and feeling less impressed with every mile that ticks over on his odometer. He pulls over a few times during the journey, mostly for coffee, and by the time the sun has hit its apex, Lance finally pulls into the Forest’s gravel parking lot, rolling to a stop beside the CEO; Ivan Thace and his husband Dimitri Ulaz. 

The three of them make idle chit-chat while waiting for the others to arrive and within the following hour and a half, James Griffin the CEO’s secretary and Ryan Kinkade the company treasurer both arrive. The Chairman, Kolivan Blade, arrives shortly after, followed last by the VP; Antok Devall. 

Lance greets them with a brief nod and turns to pull out his newly purchased camping gear from the trunk of his car, as well as a duffel bag filled with clothes and another with food. When everyone is ready, the group starts off down a winding trail, plunging deeper into the woods until the parking lot is no longer visible and the sounds of the nearby highway are drowned out by the wind rushing through the leaves and the chattering of wildlife.

Kolivan leads the group the same way he works; as silent and stoic as an unmoving boulder. A few of their colleagues chatter amongst themselves and Lance follows up in the back; awed by the canopies of massive trees that stretch overhead; the branches like twisted fingers reaching for the silver clouds above. 

Vines twisted around the vibrant green shrubbery, climbing the thick trunks of hundred year old trees and rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves, bathing the forest floor below in a golden glow. Lance was loathe to admit it but Krell’s flora was certainly stunning.

He was distracted by a rainbow of small flowers that spread out like a carpet when a bright, yellow orb zipped passed his cheek before coming to a stop and hovering at the very edge of his vision.

Lance came to a dead stop, looking around to find the source of the light yet no matter how fast he turned, the light never moved from his peripheral. He swatted his hand, thinking that perhaps it was some type of insect or that his eyes were playing tricks on him but didn’t have long to dwell before a voice cuts in. 

“Lance? Are you alright? We don’t want you to go astray, we may never see you again if that happens” Ulaz interrupts, as candour as ever. 

“Right, yeah. Just thought I saw something” Lance mutters, jogging up the path to rejoin the group. 

The path through the forest was quiet underfoot, juxtaposing the loud chatter of the birds in the treetops that seemed to grow louder with every step. To the right, Lance noticed some rocks jutting from the earth, leading up to a moss covered cliff with small trickles of water following paths worn into the stone face and dripping to the plants below. 

Lance hiked his duffel bags higher up on his shoulders, sighing tiredly at the prospect of the journey continuing for only god knew how much longer. Finally, Kolivan addressed the group, simply stating they were getting close and to stay together. Lance sighs and shuffles along, arms feeling like they’re about to give out from the strain of carrying so many things. 

A vibrant flash like green lightning split across Lance’s vision, sending him to his knees with a pained grimace, a dull ache spreading through his shoulders. After taking a moment to gather his bearings, Lance rose up on shaky legs, grabbing his things from where they had fallen and jogging to catch up with the others when something caught his attention; small white mushrooms and a lot of them.

They lined the pathway on either side for a few feet before deviating to the left and disappearing into the woods, the same width apart as the path. Lance gaped as the mushrooms started to glow, each one pulsating in a different colour as if trying to beckon him to follow them.

Lance turned away and as he did with all the odd things that happened every now and again throughout his life, he pretended he hadn’t seen anything. He entered into the clearing where they would be staying for the next week and chose a spot the farthest away from the fire Antok had started to build, setting up his tent with only a little immense difficulty that resulted in Kinkade coming over to assist, a small smile lilting his lips at Lance’s gratitude. 

They sit around the fire, chattering as they cook dinner on the open flames. Lance exchanges conversation with Kinkade about their practices at the archery range that they had been doing after work, exchanging techniques and discussing the best equipment to use. Lance turned away from Ryan to sit his plate down when he noticed the filthy look James was sending him from the other side of the fire pit.

Lance rolls his eyes, it was an office-wide known fact that James had the hots for Ryan, the only person who didn’t know was Ryan himself. Lance excuses himself and bids the group goodnight, zipping himself away in his tent with a sigh. 

When the moon reaches its peak, Lance startles awake with confusion, one foot inside the hollowed centre of a vast tree; the trunk thicker than Lance’s outstretched arms and the leaves so dense that only the barest hints of moonlight could penetrate the dense canopy above. 

Lance startles violently and falls backwards, hitting the ground with a thud. He let out a cry of pain, the jolt sending pain skittering across every nerve through the area between his shoulder blades. The faintest hints of laughter reached his ears on the wind rustling through the trees and the feeling he wasn’t alone grew steadily with every second that ticked past.

He clambers to his feet, the mushroom path glowing far brighter in the dark than it had in the daylight, and takes off up the path, not stopping until he’s back inside his tent, tangling himself within the confines of his sleeping bag to prevent any more late-night adventures. 

_I’ve never sleep-walked before, what the hell is happening to me?_

Once he’s stopped shaking and his heart is no longer thundering in his chest, Lance falls into a fitful doze, plagued with dreams of tinkling bells, wings like dragonflies and glowing violet eyes. 

Lance felt as if his eyes had only been closed for a minute when he was startled awake. 

"Oi, McClain, you gonna join us at some point or are you just gonna sleep all day?" James’ grating voice came. 

“Yeah, coming!” Lance called back, disentangling himself from his sleeping bag.

Lance rifled through his bags for his iron tablets but couldn’t find them, leaving the interior of the tent looking as if a tornado had run it through with a high-powered blender. It would be the first time in ten years he hadn’t taken his iron supplement. 

His mother insisted he take iron every day, assuring him how good it was for his health and going so far as to buy it for him. She hand-delivered the bottle each month, alongside some authentic homemade Cuban food. Only, this month his mother had come down with a brutal case of the flu and hadn’t sent them and with the huge merger happening at work, it had completely slipped his mind to ask her about it. 

Lance stumbled out of his tent and into the morning sunlight with a pained wince, just in time for Thace to hand him some flame grilled snags and eggs with a side of lightly charred toast. Lance mumbled a thanks before digging in, half-heartedly listening to the conversation of his co-workers as the same feeling of being watched crawled up his spine. He looked around frantically, twisting every which way to locate the faint sound of bells ringing in his ears.

"Lance? Are you alright?" Thace asks concernedly. 

"Yeah, don't worry, man. I think all the fresh air is getting to me" Lance jests, shaking off the paranoia and joining in the conversation.

Over the following few days, Lance continued to wake with one foot always in the entrance to the hollow oak and each time he startles awake like he's coming up from a falling dream right before he hits the ground. He becomes increasingly more withdrawn from the group, barely eating as the pain in his shoulders worsens, the paranoia increases and he genuinely begins to fear that he's losing his mind.

"Lance? Perhaps we should get you to a doctor, you don't seem like yourself. You have barely spoken in five days now and you're really worrying us" Thace pressed, placing a hand on Lances shoulder. 

"Yeah, McClain, you been off with the faeries all week or something?" James jested, nudging his less-than-amused friend, Kinkade who was looking at Lance with concern, in search of a laugh. 

"What did you say?" Lance croaked, a frown marring his features in confusion as he turned back to face James.

"I said, are you off with the-"

"Faeries…” Lance froze. Wait. What was so special about the word ‘faeries’? He tore through his memory’s in an attempt to remember but it was like he’d hit a wall, unable to access the very memories he needed to solve the puzzle but he knew it had to have something to do with the Tree. 

Lance bolted upright and took off down the trail towards the Tree, stumbling as the searing pain between his shoulder blades flared, he choked down a pained cry and kept pushing himself onwards, coming to a stop at the base of the thick trunk, taking shuddering breath to work through the pain. 

_'You're being stupid Lance, there's no such thing as faeries... What are you even doing here? There's nothing special about the tree, just walk through the damn thing and prove it. Maybe then you can stop having a nervous breakdown and enjoy the retreat like a sane person'_

Lance took one last glance to the direction of the campsite, just able to see the red tip of his tent and the smoke from the fire they'd built to cook breakfast. Lance squared his shoulders and stepped into the split in the tree, uttering a prayer as he did.

"Please dear God let there not be spiders in here". 

As he reached the centre point, he felt an odd pressure encompass his body like swimming too far down in open water then a shimmering haze swam across his vision. Lance blinked and the feeling was gone. He frowned in confusion, looking around and with a shrug, he stepped out of the other side of the oak. 

'See, told you you were insane. Now go back to camp and rest for a while before you really do have a nervous breakdown'

Lance walked out into an open field, looking around in utter confusion. He turned in place to walk back through the Tree, just in time for something to collide with the back of his head, the loud crack being the last thing he heard before he blacked out.

When he awoke, it was to the sound of chatter thundering like a dull roar inside his skull. He could barely make out the words they were saying, the language foreign and twisted like wild brambles. He stirs with a pained groan and tries to haul himself to his feet when someone grabs the nape of his neck and hauls him up by the scruff.

The sharp blade of a dagger is held to the front of his throat, drawing blood to the surface, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell, dude? What's going on?" 

Wait… does this guy have wings? 

The same strange language is shouted at him and before Lance can ask what the ever-loving fuck the guy is saying to him, there's an almighty explosion that sends the guy holding him up to the floor, taking Lance down with him and smashing him face first into the ground, chunks of rubble gouging up his back.

An ice cold hand circles his nape and hauls him up like a disobedient pup and before Lance can make a noise of complaint, he's thrown over something warm and breathing? It feels like scales beneath his palms and judging by the bat-like wings spreading out from the giant lizard things shoulders, Lance is currently flopped over a FUCKING DRAGON. 

Lance isn't proud to admit the unholy shriek he emits upon take off.

When they finally touch ground again, Lance is furious "I am so sick of being kidnapped. What the hell is going on? I need someone to answer me in a fucking language I understand because if one more of you bastards screams at me, I will literally cry".

The faeries whispered amongst one another before a lithe fae with short purple hair and blue skin, donned in navy armour, stalked towards him, stopping in front of Lance and threading her fingers through his hair, reefing his head back and looking down on him. 

"What are you?" she demands, drawing a dagger from the holster at her hip.

"What do you mean, what am I? I'm quite clearly human" Lance answered, his voice lilting with confusion.

The fae threw her head back and laughed; a hollow sound that held no mirth. "Who do you think you are fooling?"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Only those with faery blood can enter Oriande, so clearly, you aren't human, duh” a fae with long rainbow hair interjected, leaning against another fae who was easily eight feet tall and broader than a rhinoceros. 

“I demand you answer me!” the purple haired fae growled, “What are you?!" 

Lance prided himself on his quick thinking and silver tongue, skills he was frequently praised for in the workplace, however, no one could say Lance was the most intelligent cookie in the jar when he opened his mouth this time around, "Do you all have your head up your ass or are you just naturally hard of hearing? I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

"Fine, don’t speak. I'm sure King Lotor will find you less amusing than we do" the Hulk faery laughed with twisted glee.

The Hulk, Zethrid as he learned her name to be from the rainbow-haired one, grabbed Lane by his hair and dragged him through the sprawling hallways of a castle bathed in shades of purple, orange, black and navy. He tried to kick and squirm free but it only earned him an amused snort. Lance groaned as he was thrown face first to the floor, just managing to catch himself before colliding with the gold-flecked marble. He looked up to see the clawed feet of a gilded throne and a set of deep navy boots. 

"Who is this, Acxa?" the King, Lance presumed, asked boredly. 

“An intruder we captured from the Seelie realm, your highness. He refuses to answer our questions so I had hoped you would have more luck getting information out of him" Acxa answered, bowing her head respectfully. 

"I see. Take him to the ironworks, perhaps he'll start talking then. All faeries scream in the iron baths and if he doesn’t talk… kill him."

“NO!” Lance shouted, choking on a sob, “PLEASE, I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING”

Lance wailed and fought against the guards, their grips bruising on his upper arms as they hauled him to his feet, leading him deep into the bowels of the castle, down countless flights of stone steps. He fought harder, lashing out and screaming as they began to near the source of the agonised screams of other faeries suffering the same fate Lance was soon to face. 

The room they dragged him to was scalding hot, causing sweat to bead at his forehead and run down the valley of his spine. The stone floors were damp underfoot and a glowing pink moss grew through the cracks in the stone and a vat filled with melted iron glowed a vibrant orange, illuminating the room and stinging Lance’s eyes if he looked for too long, like when looking up at the sun as a child. 

“Speak halfwit or accept your fate” the taller of the two guards, another woman with short, navy hair and blue skin, commanded, pointing to the vat. 

“Please… I’m just a human. I came here through a hollow tree. That’s all I know” Lance sobbed, his tone pleading as the shorter guard grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. 

“Have it your way”. 

Lance screamed as he was shoved forward. There was nothing he could do to stop the impact, his hips slammed hard into the edge of the vat, sending him tumbling forward over the rim and into the iron. 

Nothing.

Lance felt nothing more than a slight warmth on his skin, like the days he spent at home in Cuba warming beneath the sun on the shores of Veradera beach. Even as his clothes burned away into nothingness and his skin was laid bare, he remained as unharmed as he would’ve been if the guards had pushed him into a bath of warm water.

His hand swayed slightly beneath the surface, catching on something semi-solid. His fingers encircled around what felt like a handle, a bone-deep sting spreading through his veins. He hunched forward, letting out a scream of pain beneath the surface as the skin between his shoulder blades tore open. 

Lance hauled himself to his feet when the pain lessened, the iron reaching only to his mid-thighs and dripped off his skin in rivulets the way water would run off a smooth surface. 

He looked down at where his hand encircled the smooth handle of a sword and then over his shoulder to see a pair of wings protruding from his back, stretched wide and the colour of thunderclouds and sapphires. 

His legs trembled as he clambered inelegantly over the edge of the vat, his footprints hissing as they came into contact with the damp floor. He looked up at the guards in confusion, too weak to fight and too disoriented to be fazed by his own nudity. 

“Trugg, get the King!” the other guard shouted, backing away from Lance.

The frantic flutter of wings thrummed in Lance’s ears as Trugg took off, leaving Lance and the other guard staring at one another with a mix of anticipation and bewilderment. The buzzing returned twice as loud barely a minute later as Trugg returned with the King by her side, landing side by side with one another. 

“YES!” the King purred delightfully, “Yes, this must be the One the Prophecy speaks of, the Ironborn Faery that will capture the heart of the Iron Beast that dwells deep In the Caves of Marmora. The one that will free us from its dreadful wrath”.

***

“Move halfbreed” one of the faery guards demanded, the sharp tip of his spear pressing against Lance’s lower back. 

Lance trembled, the sword in his hand slipping in the grip of his sweaty palm. He turned, eyes pleading as the armoured fae held their spears towards him, urging him towards the jagged mouth of the cave. He held a lit torch in his left hand, illuminating the cave mouth with blue flames that danced across the walls his sword from the iron baths in the other. Lance swallowed audibly and stepped deeper, trembling with terror at the prospect of facing the Beast. He was a businessman, not a warrior, not some faerie saviour that could cut the heart out of a living creature. 

When the daylight was only a distant memory and the only source of light came from the torch, Lance came to a stop at a fork in the path, taking the left after some hesitation and then entering into a cave off the side of the path. Lance let the sword clatter to the ground as he fell to his knees, a raw sob tearing from his throat as he buried his head in his hands, alone in the crushing darkness.

“I can’t do this" the torch fell to the ground beside him.

He stayed there, unmoving, until the blue flames of the torch ran down into nothingness, plunging the cave into pitch blackness. Not a single ray of sunlight making its way so far underground and only the dying embers that clung to the torch gave off any light.

Lance’s face crumpled as he tried to stop the tears; the fear, the darkness and the isolation- it was too much for him. He fell to the ground with little resistance, his arms wrapping around his body as he curled in on himself, sobbing until no more tears would fall. Eventually, he curled in on himself, succumbing to the anguish and letting the darkness wrap around him like a blanket. 

Lance awoke slowly, prying into consciousness with little enthusiasm, preparing himself to awake into the dark he would die in. 

He blinked rapidly as light flooded his vision, causing him to turn away, eyes unused to light after so long in the darkness. Wait, _light?_ Lance bolted upright, looking around in confusion. 

He was still underground, that much he knew by the grey stone of the rough cave walls that curved upwards towards the sky. A massive hole in the cave ceiling allowed sunlight to flood in, bathing half the cavern in gold and green vines hung from the outside, reaching for the crystalline water below and decorating the rock shelves that jutted from the wall. 

“How did I get here?” Lance wondered aloud, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. 

“I brought you here” A voice rasped like two stones grating over one another, as if the owner was unused to talking. 

Lance shrieked in an especially manly manner and clutches a hand to his chest, “Woah man, you scared the hell out of me!” 

“I’m sorry” the voice returned, sounding genuinely distraught. 

“Where are you? Are you stuck down here like I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter” 

Lance twisted around, searching for the origin of the voice but the vastness of the cavern made the voice echo and the side of the cave furthest from Lance was cloaked in shadow from the overhanging stone. When his search came up empty, Lance scooted back against a large boulder jutting from the sandy silt that made up the floor and crossed his legs, humming a song his mother used to sing to him as a child to fill the silence as he looked around the cave.

“Did you come here to slay me?” the voice asked apathetically, as if asking such a question was an occurrence that happened often. 

“What? Of course not! King Lotor’s men forced me here” Lance said insistently, his tone sharp at the accusation. “He said something about a prophecy and thinks I’m the one destined to ‘capture the heart of the Iron Beast’” Lance put in quotations, flexing his fingers into bunny ears for emphasis.

“No matter how many times I told him I was human and that I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, he wouldn’t listen, this was after he tried drowning me in melted iron” Lance spat. 

“I am the one they call the Iron Beast… How did you survive the iron baths?”. 

“Why do they call you that?” Lance asked, not allowing the voice to answer, “Oh, uh, I have no idea, I did get that cool sword out of the deal though” Lance pointed a finger towards to the iron sword leaning against the cave wall and took a deep breath before continuing “Come into the light, I promise you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you”.

The laugh that returned was hollow and bitter, a sound twisted by countless years of cruelty, “Hurt me? I find that unlikely but as you wish”

Lance crawled forward slowly, approaching the shadowed half of the cave with curiosity and trepidation. He came to a stop a few feet from where the light faded into shadow and waited, heartbeat pounding in his ears as several eternities passed by the time the beast crept forward.

Lance gasped quietly.

It was only a faery...

He was taller and far broader than Lance and his skin was completely bare save for the dirt and dried blood caked across every inch of him but he was just a faery with, what looked like, years upon years of gnarled scars atop of one another adorning most of his visible torso, upper arms and the length of his muscular legs.

His right arm was missing, cut a few inches above the elbow and jagged plates of metal protruded from his skin; jutting down his upper arms and his thighs and more jutted from the length of his spine between vast wings that dragged along the ground behind him.

The fae stepped further into the light, his long black hair with a single white streak obscuring most of his face save for the edge of a scar that slit across the bridge of the faery’s nose and a set of glowing, violet eyes flicked up to meet Lance’s own. 

Like an out of body experience, Lance reached a hand toward the fae slowly, moving to brush the hair out of his face. 

“DON’T!” he shouted, the tone laced with pure fear as he fell to the ground, scrambling backwards back into the shadows. 

“Okay, okay, it’s alright. I’m sorry” Lance soothed, his voice low and hands raised to prove he was no threat. 

“What’s your name? Your real name” Lance asked, letting his hand fall by his side.  
“Why do you want to know?” the faery asked from the shadows, his eyes glowing brighter.  
“When I meet new people, I like to know their names but no worries if you don’t want to tell me. I’m Lance by the way” Lance smiled and rose to his feet, tugging at the straps of the armour the Unseelie had forced him into. 

He removed his clothing and waded into the pool, letting the cool water soothe his aching muscles and the redness around his newly sprouted wings.  
“Wait…. this is safe to swim in right?” Lance asked the other faery, looking up from the water.  
“Yes, also to drink”  
“Do you want to swim as well? I’ll stay on this side of the pool so you don’t have to worry”.  
The faery sighed and inched towards the water, looking over at Lance dubiously to make sure he stayed where he was as he dipped a toe in. Lance nods encouragingly and makes his way over to the other side of the pool, to where thick stems of aloe vera were sprouting. Lance snapped off a leaf and used a rock to slice it open so he could scoop out the gel.  
Rubbing it between his palms, he spread the gel through his hair, coating every inch in the slime and lathering it in.  
“What are you doing?” The faery asked, his eyebrow raised and head tilted in confusion, looking like a bewildered baby owl.  
“Washing my hair..? It’s really relaxing. Do you want me to do yours too?”  
No matter how desperately he craved the touch of another, he was so terrified of hurting them and after being hurt so many times before by the countless faeries that had tried to kill him over the centuries… could he even bring himself to get close to anyone? He slipped into the water and inched closer with trepidation, “...I don’t want you to get hurt if you touch me” he frowned, stopping just passed an arm’s length away.  
“I’m pretty sure I’m immune to iron. You won’t hurt me, I promise”. Lance snapped another leaf off the aloe plant and poured the gel into his hands, waiting for the fae to inch a little closer. “Come on, it’s okay”

He waded closer, close enough to touch and Lance reached his non-aloe-covered-hand towards him, letting his fingertips gently brush the fae’s shoulder, looking up at him to make sure he was alright. The faery nodded quickly, eyes clenched shut as Lance’s fingertips trailed down to where the first metal plate jutted from his upper arm. The fae jittered with anxiety as Lance looked up into his eyes as his palm pressed flat to the plate.

When nothing happened, he went rigid looking down at Lance in utter shock, “You- you’re not hurt…”

“See? I told you! Nothing to worry about. Now, lean down. I can’t reach your head otherwise”.

He knelt down in the water, his spine ramrod straight and arm rigid by his side as he waited for blows to rain down on him from above. Lance did no such thing, his fingertips firm but gentle as they massaged the aloe into his scalp and worked it down to the ends of his long hair.

He spent an hour cleaning the fae’s skin of the build-up of grime, scraping away dirt and dried blood with gentle motions. He rinsed out his hair, humming the same tune from before softly to keep him calm.

“You’re all done, my man. Look at you now!” Lance wolf whistled, turning to wash his hands clean of the debris that clung to them. He paused as fingers encircled his wrist and turned, looking up expectantly. 

“Takashi”

“Huh?” 

“My name… it’s Takashi”.

***  
Lance wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had first entered the cave but he couldn’t really bring himself to care much when he had Shiro for company. They spent their days safe within the walls of the cave, hidden away from those that threaten Shiro’s wellbeing and learning each other’s bodies; tracing over every scar and ridge and muscle on one another’s skin. 

Shiro taught Lance how to fly, the two of them twisting through the air and when on the ground, Lance would braid Shiro’s hair again and again until he fell asleep soundly, feeling safe for the first time in centuries. He showed Lance how to access the powers hidden inside of him, how he could harvest iron ore from inside the caves and shape it at will, imbuing his creations with magic that made them dance and move. 

One night, as they lay on the sand, looking up at the stars, their discussion shifted to Shiro’s past. 

“The Unseelie Fae were once greedy and cruel, wanting to rule Oriande alone. I was taken by an exiled faery known as the Witch, she performed experiments on me for over a hundred years, turned me into this monster... her aim was to spark a war that raged for centuries and she succeeded…”

“I was delivered back to the Seelie Queen and she couldn’t even bare to look at me. I was banished from her kingdom; turned into a monster that the fae children are warned about and a beast given as a test of courage for the bravest warriors to hunt for sport” 

“She tortured me, made me immune to iron and hammered plates of it into my skin so no other fae could touch me… Not until you came along”

They fell asleep that night curled in each other’s arms, Lance holding Shiro tight against him as if he could will the broken pieces back together. 

***  
Over the following months, Lance wondered what his parents would say if he ever made it back home, if time passed the same way it did here in Oriande but he found dwelling on it too painful, his thoughts drifting instead to the iron plates embedded in Shiro’s skin. He saw how much pain it caused him but couldn’t find a way to remedy the situation until…

“Shiro! Shiro! Shiro! I just had an idea”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been practicing my magic and I have a surprise for you but you’ll need to close your eyes… and uh, this may hurt a little but I promise it’ll be worth it”.

Shiro nodded and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain to come. Lance reached inside himself and called to the iron plates in Shiro’s skin, feeling his body temperature rise as they melted away atom by atom, minimising the amount of pain Lance inflicted. Each atom floated through the air, forming into a conglomerate above Lance’s head. 

When he sensed that the plates were fully removed, Lance reformed the liquid iron into a new shape, solidifying it and attaching it to its pre-determined location, imbuing it with magic that would aid in movement. Lance panted as he finished, using so much magic at one leaving him tired but proud as he looked at his handiwork with pride. 

“Alright, open your eyes”.

Shiro’s purple irises fluttered open, his gaze falling on the new arm that now made up the space where only a severed stump had once been, his mouth agape in awe as he flexed his new fingers back and forth, eyes sparkling with wonder. 

“I can’t… Lance…” Shiro began to cry, his bottom lip trembling and eyes turning glassy as he pulled Lance against him in a bone crushing hug, “I can’t thank-you enough for this”.  
“I have something for you as well…” Shiro murmured when he regained a little more of his composure.

He cupped his hands together, frowning in concentration as purple light began to shine through the gaps in his fingers before finally dulling down into nothingness. When he took one hand away, what was left was a black and purple gemstone, no bigger than a few inches. “Each faery is given a stone at birth that contains a piece of our heart. It’s something we give to our mates when we find them… and I would like you to have mine”. 

Lance took the gem from Shiro’s outstretched palm and cradled it against his chest reverently, “Shiro… I want you to come home with me to the human realm. You won’t have to live in exile anymore, you’ll be safe, with me… A place where we’ll be free to live without persecution”

***

Lance linked his arm around Shiro’s, feeling his partner tremble, offering what little comfort he could in such a situation. Lance clasped the necklace around his throat in the palm of his free hand and sighed as the wooden doors to the High Court flew open with a thunderous bang, leaves swirling around their ankles as they stepped over the threshold. 

The High Court was the one place where the Seelie and Unseelie fae would meet on neutral ground to discuss treaties between their kingdoms, a sacred site where all disputes could be put aside in neutral territory. 

Their steps echoed as the fairies fell silent and Lance clenched Shiro’s arm tighter. 

“What is the meaning of this, Ironborn? We sent you to cut out its heart and yet, you return with a mate?” Lotor recoiled at the sight before him.

“Excuse me, Your Grace” Lance said through gritted teeth, “But you told me to capture the heart of the Iron Beast and I have, perhaps not in the way you truly meant but to my knowledge, faeries are all about the meaning behind their words, are they not?” 

“Shiro’s heart does belong to me just as mine belongs to him. Perhaps it would do you well to learn a little compassion for the so-called Beast your kind created in the first place”. 

Lotor spluttered as whispers filled the High Court, both Seelie and Unseelie alike looking at each other in confusion at Lance’s words.

“What do you mean by that halfbreed?” Lotor spat indignantly. 

Shiro squeezed Lance’s hand and stepped forward, “An exiled Unseelie known to me only as The Witch captured me while I was the Personal Guard to Queen Melenor of the Seelie Court. The Witch held me captive for over a century and performed experiments on me to force my body into no longer reacting to iron” Shiro sighed, stumbling back, his face twisted with the pain of the memories. 

“She hammered iron plates into my skin and sent me to Queen Melenor in hopes of starting a war so the Unseelie could rule Oriande instead of ruling over only their domain”.

Lance couldn’t bite his tongue any longer, “He came to you in search of help after suffering a century of unimaginable pain and you exiled him. You turned him into a monster you warned your children of to keep them in line and sent your men to murder him for some sort of bragging right… And you have the audacity to sit on your thrones and look down on me?!” 

“My true name is Takashi Shirogane” Shiro interjects, putting a hand on Lance’s shoulder as he addresses the High Court, “I am the one you call the Iron Beast and with your permission, I would like to accompany Lance back to the human realm and stay there. There is nothing for me here and no reason for me to stay, so please… let me follow my heart”

“Very well, Shirogane but know this, once you set foot on human soil, you will not be welcome back here” The Unseelie King spat bitingly, looking down on Shiro with disgust. 

Shiro threw his head back and laugh mirthlessly, “I wasn’t welcome here regardless” he said curtly, entwining Lance’s fingers within his own and walking out of the High Court with Lance by his side.


End file.
